


Nothing is True

by ninhursag



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, M/M, Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-18
Updated: 2010-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For weird biological reasons, the people of the planet they're visiting think Kirk is a virgin and would like him to participate in their ritual. McCoy's not too happy about it. For the kink_bingo square, virginity/celibacy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing is True

**Author's Note:**

> I bet you thought I didn't write slash anymore. HAH.

**First**

It's a biological thing for the dominant species of Ayre-- blue eyes mean virginity. The hormones released when coitus is completed change and darken the iris. It's in Jim's mission briefing, but just a footnote, nothing anyone thinks to draw his attention to.

If his memory weren't near eidetic he wouldn't even know what was going on when a smiling young woman with bright green eyes that matched her skin took his hand without warning and said, "Will you honor us with your purity at the festival?"

Even with the report in one of the files he keeps in his head, it's all he can do not to snort with inappropriate laughter. He's had the motions of diplomacy drilled into his brain until it's sticky, though, and he just smiles back at her.

"I'm afraid I can't--" he starts to say.

"Please," the girl interrupts, "You must. I know you wish to obtain permission from the elders to build a waystation on our moon. This is not a boon they would refuse the pure one at the moon festival." Her hand is warm and dry on Jim's and he shakes his head, but she doesn't seem to hear him.

Jim's brain files this away, like so-- Fact: They do need the waystation. Point of philosophy: If everything is true, than this isn't forbidden.

"The pure one," Bones snorts when he tells him later and elbows Jim in the ribs like it's a great joke. "Pure as what?"

Jim grins at him and sticks out his tongue. "Purely more awesome than you," he says.

Bones rolls his eyes. "But, you're not going to do it, are you? That would be fifty kind of unethical, kid."

Jim shrugs, cracks his knuckles and shakes his head. "It's the easiest way from point A to point B."

Bones' nostrils flare and Jim can see the scowl building up. He's enough of a bastard to turn on his heels and walk away from it. Pure as what, indeed?

In the back of his mind, he's waiting for the day he walks away and Bones doesn't come after.

**Second**

The festival of the moon is actually beautiful. Jim had the vague image in his head of Risan style bacchanals and intoxicants flowing in streams like champagne fountains, and he would have been okay with that.

Actually, that makes it worse. He wouldn't have felt like the lowest kind of liar if this was some crazy wet dream of a ritual about despoiling virgins. His imaginary virginity and the losing of it would have been a joke, something to recount between shots at a bar to make whatever fish he had on the hook lean in closer.

Instead, there's a woman, old, a lot older than him, with fine, papery skin and clear blue eyes. For some reason she reminds him of Spock, the older Spock, in her effortlessly tender calm. She kisses his cheeks while the crowd watches, soft buzzing whispers rising and falling through the evening air.

"Thank you, pure one," she says and takes his hands. He feels his face heat, the thrum of the lie he's telling just by being here chasing down his skin. She kisses his palms, one by one and her smile never falters.

She takes him inside and draws the curtain and he wants to babble, to explain that he's lying, unworthy, un-- she puts her hand over his mouth and shakes her head, not letting the words spill out. "You needn't explain. We know you're not one of our people and your body is not like ours," she tells him, with a gentleness that makes his knees knock. "We have met Terrans before, you know."

He shakes his head, drawing away. "Then you know I'm not actually a virgin, or whatever you need for this ritual."

"A pure one," she says. The lines around her mouth and eyes crinkle with the force of her smile. "You are exactly who you are supposed to be. Come to me." Her hands are steady on his and she draws him in close, he kneels down before her.

She kisses his eyelids, brushing his blue eyes closed, one by one. He feels a deep, abiding warmth that doesn't come from shame.

After, when she lets him go, her eyes are brown and honey warm and he thinks he might almost understand.

**Third**

Bones scowls at him from over with the rest of the away team while Jim signs his name to the new treaty with a flourish. A trading station isn't quite the same thing as welcoming the planet to the Federation, but it will be a good first step.

After, back on shipboard, Bones catches him by the elbow. "Did you have fun lying to those people about the virgin state of your ass?" he asks. "Or was trading yourself for trading rights more up your alley?" The scowl shows off where the lines on his face are going to be, ten, twenty years from now.

Jim doesn't flinch, because he's had practice not letting it show. Instead he smiles, sunny and bright. "I had an awesome time, thanks for asking."

Bones glares at him until Jim exercises his Captainly right to nod, say, "Doctor McCoy," with a flourish, and walk away one more time.

He's in his quarters, looking over star-charts, when Bones comes blustering in, following him after all. He's carrying a fine looking bottle of bourbon in one hand and two glasses in the other, gritting his teeth. "Damnit, Jim," he says, before Jim has a chance to do more than look up and smile. "How can you act like it doesn't matter? You're not a thing, you can't just let--"

Jim raises an eyebrow, like he's been taking lessons from Spock. "You're the one who said I lied. If nothing's true, then everything's permitted," he says. Then he holds out one hand. "Come on, pour me a drink."

Bones grumbles, but settles down on the couch next to Jim. He pulls the stopper on the bourbon and it cascades into the glasses, a fine amber stream. "You didn't give me a chance to check you over in medical," Bones mutters, barely audible over the sound of liquid and glass. "I'd better see you in sickbay first thing tomorrow."

Jim shrugs. "If you want. No need, though. It was... it was nice."

Bones harrumphs like someone auditioning for the role of old grouch at the county fair or something. "You'd say that about anything." He pauses, looking Jim over with narrowed eyes. "You don't look like anything hurts, but you're going to need STI boosters."

"Bones, I'm up to date on my--" Jim begins, cajoling, sweet.

Bones cuts right through it. "It's not fucking permitted, okay? People can't just do whatever they want with you. You can't just volunteer for some useless ritual on a useless dirtball that you don't even qualify for and act like what happens to you doesn't fucking matter." He punctuates his words by knocking back the first shot and pouring another one.

Jim decides that's his own cue to drink. It's quiet for a second. "Nothing bad happened, it really was nice. Anyway, they didn't think I was an actual virgin," he says, lightly, like Bones hasn't been yelling. "_Pure one_ isn't an exact translation."

Bones blinks at him. The genuine bafflement kills the scowl and for a second his friend actually looks young as he is. He covers it quickly, but not quickly enough and Jim finds himself grinning. "No one with eyes would think you were a virgin, kid," he scoffs.

Jim laughs. "That's Captain Kid to you, Bonesy," he says.

He leans forward on his elbows and kisses Bones, full on the mouth, tasting the remnants of expensive liquor on his skin. There's barely a moment of stiffness before Bones is kissing back, growling low and rough while his hands are gentle on the base of Jim's skull. It's an easy, practiced kiss, like they've done it a thousand times before and will again. As long as Bones is here to do it with.

The break for air and Jim pants and grins. "I can be a virgin for you, if you want," he says, and flicks his lashes. "Teach me, Dr. McCoy, make me all yours, sugar," he croons, fake sweet with a put on of a Southern accent.

Bones rolls his eyes. "I've been trying, dumbass," he says. "It never seems to take, though."

Jim shrugs and remembers the planet and the ritual and soft, papery kisses. "It takes," he says. "And that's the truth." Bones kisses him on the mouth, sloppy-sweet and young and strong and Jim drinks him in.


End file.
